


Snowflake

by sarcasticsra



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Gen, Introspection, M/M, POV First Person, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-01
Updated: 2013-03-01
Packaged: 2017-12-03 23:24:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticsra/pseuds/sarcasticsra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles can't help but admire it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowflake

**Author's Note:**

> Has been edited from its original version. Originally written for [](http://alphabetasoup.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://alphabetasoup.livejournal.com/)**alphabetasoup** , prompt: **b** is for **bric-a-brac**.

When I was a little boy, my favorite ornament on the Christmas tree was a small, sparkling, white and blue snowflake. I would always hang this ornament on the tree in what I deemed the ‘perfect’ spot. Then, when the entire tree was decorated, I would check it over, confirming that my snowflake was still visible and that it hadn’t been covered up by one of the, admittedly, much prettier decorations.

My parents were always puzzled as to why that one snowflake was my favorite, considering there were countless others that were more expensive and better looking. I know why that snowflake was, and still is, now that I consider it, my favorite.

It was something real.

Unlike the sparkling angels and faeries, I knew that the snowflake was real. It was simple and beautiful, honest in a way that made it unexpected, and therefore something I cherished. How could something formed during the cold, drab winter season bring me so much light and warmth?

In a way, this is where my thoughts turn when musing on one Dr. Sidney Freedman and one Dr. Benjamin Franklin Pierce. I do not know what has brought my musings to the two of them; many times, when I am relaxing and listening to my music, I allow my mind to wander. This time, with Dr. Freedman visiting here for an indeterminate amount of time, my thoughts have settled on their...relationship.

I have always been an observant person; I know glances of longing and need when I see them, and that is what those two send each other constantly. _Of course_ I know about them. Anyone with eyes and an IQ above that of the average cinder block should know. Then again, perhaps not; Winchesters have _always_ been advanced.

I suppose there are people out there who would find it disgusting; I used to be one of them. This war, and these people, have changed me, and while I doubt I shall ever admit this to anyone besides myself, I suspect it was for the better.

But I digress.

Pierce and Dr. Freedman do remind me of that snowflake. I don’t suppose this is odd at all, upon further reflection. Indeed, what is love if not real, if not simple and beautiful, if not honest? And love, springing up from this wretched location? Certainly that is unexpected, and something to be cherished.

I am somewhat envious of Pierce and Dr. Freedman because of this, I must confess, if only to myself—I do have a reputation to maintain, and Winchesters are meant to _inspire_ envy, not experience it. Still, it is altogether an extraordinary experience, perhaps even awe-inspiring, and one cannot help but wish for something such as that for oneself.

I suppose others might doubt the notion that what these two share is, in fact, love. After all, this is a war, and they are probably merely lonely, and seeking companionship with someone convenient. This is, to be sure, what I initially assumed, at least until I noticed _it_.

There is a certain _spark_ , for lack of a better term, in Pierce’s eyes most of the time (it is admittedly dimmed after long hours of what passes for ‘surgery’ here.) I will see it twinkling benignly when he is speaking with a new nurse, certainly, but it is an entirely different story when he is conversing with Major Freedman; it is no less than a fire.

The transformation is rather spectacular; it also leaves no doubt as to how deep the feelings run between those two gentlemen. This is yet another similarity to that snowflake. It was always sparkling, even though it could never compete with those other ornaments. Being the sentimental romantic that I sometimes am, I do silently wish the both of them luck and happiness and anything else I can without being too maudlin.

I am not very worried, however; things such as that snowflake, and this love, do tend to last. At least, I hope so.

Not that I would admit such a thing _out loud_ , you understand.


End file.
